Tonight it’s pouring rain outside.

The sound of the rain is loud through the window, in part because our drain spouts need fixing. Ok. Yeah. They need replacing.

For a moment I go down the rabbit hole of the List. If you are a home-owner (or let’s face it, a human) you SO know what I mean.

Then…I smile. I am remembering that – today – in the middle of parenting, planning, cleaning, cooking, organizing and attending to…I stopped. I did that. I took literally a few moments of time in this day – the first day of spring, the equinox – to FEEL spring. There was a wee lull in the rain. The birds were beckoning me. My young daughter was happily playing in her room, and I had a genuine impulse: Infuse my soul with spring. Bring spring IN. So my friends… I followed it.


So simple really. And I suppose this is one of the reasons I have begun this blog: To advocate for beautiful, simple, doable ritual. Sometimes ritual is planned, layered, and complex, absolutely. But it can also be intuitive, spontaneous, and…SIMPLE. So long as it speaks to us.

From the outside, one might have watched what I did and thought, “Well, all you did was collect flowers.” For me, it was so much more than just that. In particular – this year, these flowers that are in our yard are all new to us. You see, we moved here in May of last year, so we have yet to see the flowers of March in this place. That is incredibly special to me. Meeting a flower that blooms on your land for the first time. Then another, and another. Such a treasured event. Like those sweet champagne centered daffodils. I had passed by them a number of times, but hadn’t gotten to know them up close. Until now.


And so, here I am today in the garden. Each time I bend down to cut a flower…we greet one another. We engage in the sweetest of conversations. Those who want to stay in the earth, stay. And those who want to join us in the warmth of the home, gladly nestle into my basket.


I hear the faint sing-song sound of my daughter calling, “Mama, where aaaaarrre you?” She emerges at the front door, wearing only gumboots (not unusual for her). She is excited about this colourful collection of flora. She asks if she can cut one too. She does. She is thrilled, and ever so proud of her scissor-wielding powers. The one she cuts is a grape hyacinth. “Mmmmmm,” she says, “Wow. It smells byoootiful mama.” We lock eyes for a moment. Our eyes agree – it’s MAGIC.

My husband arrives home and she runs to him. They head inside, giggling between her accounts of the day.

I take a few more of my own moments, including a favourite quickie ritual: barefeet in the wet grass. Then…I follow the sound of music and giggles into the house.


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3 Responses to GUMBOOTS & GRACE

  1. Your writing is outstanding. Very nice.


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